Cuffed
by DarkArts27
Summary: Booth and Brennan get an unexpected surprise, and find themselves in quite an awkward situation. BB fluff shot. No spoilers.


**A/N: Hmm, I'm not quite sure where this came from, but here it is. No spoilers, Booth and Brennan in an established relationship. I'll say this one is for Dana as well, a) because I'm incredibly generous *cough cough*, and b) because she's having a dodgy week, so hopefully this will cheer her up ******

**Yeah, I don't own it (I fooled you!).**

**Please review, constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated. I hope it's not too bad.**

"Booth, I'm...I'm a little unsure about this," she shot him a nervous glance as the metal clinked together.

"Don't worry, Bones," he smiled, his devilish expression sending a shiver up her spine, "It won't be too bad."

Her lips curved up slightly upon seeing him as he was, so cheeky and carefree, so caught up in the moment at hand. He stepped back, admiring the woman before him; the tousled auburn locks that hung freely from her head, the milky skin of her arms, legs, neck and chest, the slate grey eyes that could give him composure and insanity at the same time. She smiled up at him, her eyes darkened with desire, her cheeks a flushed pink under his gaze.

Like a lion stalking his prey, he stepped towards her. Slowly but surely he edged closer, watching her squirm as she waited impatiently. The metal clinked together as she pulled against her restraints, elbows barely bending from their outstretched position, and chest heaving in anticipation. It had been her that had proposed using the handcuffs, the idea being to not only make their time between the sheets a little different and outrageous, but also for her to relent a little of her control, to not feel threatened by the idea of someone else taking charge.

She licked her lips, only slightly, but the simple involuntary action sent him into overdrive. He quickly made his way up onto the bed, crawling over her until he was straddling her hips. He paused, momentarily, taking in her expression, the way her lips curved cheekily at the sides, the crimson blush of her cheeks. She gazed up at him, her eyes conveying what he was feeling, but with a hint of uncertainty. With a gentle hand, he brushed a tendril of hair from her face, while leaning down towards her.

"Trust me," he whispered into her ear, the warmth of his breath caressing the sensitive skin of her neck, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake.

"Always," came her reply, so faint that it was almost inaudible.

Needing no more assurance from her, he leaned in, ravishing her neck with his mouth and tongue; one hand one the base of her skull, toying with the soft, silky strands of hair, the other sliding down the side of the off-white camisole she wore.

The rich throaty moan of his name could be felt through the alabaster skin of her neck, only causing him to increase his assault on her senses. His lips quickly found the soft, supple skin of her own, allowing him to lose himself in the feel of her velvety tongue against his. After separating for air, he kissed his way down her throat and neck, to the ivory expanse of flesh that seemed to shimmer in the dim light. His hands came to rest on her sides, fingers pressed against the ribbed material of her singlet, while his mouth tardily made its way further down her chest. As he reached the edge of the material, he stopped suddenly, raising his head to look over toward the bedroom door.

"Booth," she gasped breathlessly, "Why – What's wrong?"

"Shh," he replied suddenly, placing a finger over his somewhat swollen lips.

The apartment seemed eerily quiet as the two waited for any sign of life, for any hinting as to what caused Booth's abrupt change in demeanour.

Three swift knocks resounded through the apartment, three soft, almost delicate knocks. Before anything else was heard, Booth stared down at Brennan; her eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

"Oh shit!" she whispered harshly, making the connection as to who was at the door.

Booth chuckled softly at her use of such informal language, even if the situation was not the greatest.

"Bren! Are you in there?" called a voice from outside the apartment door; a familiar female voice that shocked Booth out of his amused state.

"Quick, get up!" Brennan commanded, careful to keep her voice low enough as to not be detected.

"What! No! Just wait, she'll leave in a second," came Booth's hasty reply as he leaned forward, placing his hand over her mouth.

By pure fight reflex, she brought her leg up in the air, it coming into harsh contact with his back. The action was unexpected, and he winced as the air escaped his lungs. Both stilled suddenly as Booth's cry emanated throughout the apartment.

"Bren? I can hear you, you know!" called the visitor, whose patience was rapidly diminishing.

Brennan glared at Booth, eyes wider than he had ever seen them.

"You have to let me out, she knows I'm in here," she pleaded, knowing that the wrath of Angela was something she'd rather not face at this point in time.

He reluctantly slid off her, before hurriedly grabbing his trousers and rummaging through the pockets in search of the small, brass key. His fingers darted in and out of every pocket, before going over a second time.

"Hurry up! What's taking so long?" she whispered angrily.

"Bones, we may have a problem," he replied cautiously, trying desperately to keep her calm and collected.

"You didn't. Tell me you didn't lose the key!" her voice was losing the quieter edge that it had held previously, and was coming in louder bursts.

He glanced at her apologetically, before searching the pockets of his jacket vigorously.

"Bren, what's going on? I'm coming in," yelled the voice from outside of the apartment.

In an instantaneous reaction, Brennan struggled against the metal restraints, the scrape of metal-on-metal echoing mercilessly throughout the room. Booth snapped his head up, before throwing his jacket back to the ground and racing over to her side.

"Bones, she – she's coming in here. I – I have to hide!" his voice was shaky at the thought of Angela catching them in bed together. They possibly should have mentioned to her the fact they were together.

"Bathroom, shower curtain," she gasped, her voice laced with panic, her breaths coming in close succession as she heard the front door open, and click shut.

As Booth raced off into the bathroom, Brennan could hear stiletto's clicking against the hardwood floor. First, to the living area, followed closely by the kitchen, which then lead the steps towards her bedroom door. The amplitude of the clicks increased, as did the beating of her heart, the pulse thundering in her ears as she hypothesised about Angela's response to finding her like this.

Time seemed to slow as she heard the footsteps cease, and the handle on the door begin to turn. Her eyes closed for a moment, just to allow her to gather some composure and to think of a feasible excuse. As they opened, so did the door; the moment of truth had finally arrived.

"Bren, what's going o –" she halted abruptly.

She didn't know what to make of the scene before her. There lay Brennan, her best friend, handcuffed to the bed in a camisole and underpants.

"Oh God, Sweetie," she stammered as, she struggled to hide the smile spreading across her face.

"Ange, it's – it's not what you think," Brennan struggled for a feasible excuse, but came up empty.

"Oh, so I'm not getting the idea that there's a man hiding in here somewhere?" she chuckled.

Brennan blushed furiously at Angela's response, still wracking her brain for some form of excuse. Angela's smile faded slightly for a moment, as she put more thought into the situation, and the parties involved.

"It better be who I hope it is, Sweetie," she feigned seriousness.

"What? Ange, I'm not quite sure I know what you're talking about," her tone even; she was getting good at this lying business.

"Oh, whatever, Sweetie. You know that if it's not your little piece of private eye candy hiding in the bathroom somewhere, I'll give you both hell! But I think we both know that there's only one person in the world that you'd trust _that_ much," she gestured towards the cuffs still keeping Brennan pinned to the bed.

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, and her heart rate increase. Damn Angela and her intuition! Deep down Brennan knew she would eventually figure it out, but the circumstances at that moment weren't exactly those that she had planned on.

"Booth, you can come out now!" yelled Angela, grin spreading even wider across her features.

Both women were met with silence; no reply, no movement, no appearance.

"Booth!" a little louder, "Get out here before I come in there and drag you out myself!"

Her forceful tone seemed to have the desired effect, as a loud sigh, followed by footsteps on the tiles could be heard. Who knew the FBI Special Agent could intimidate so easily? He inched the bathroom door open, just a fraction, to avoid any projectiles that may have been heading in his direction. With the coast clear, he walked out sheepishly, arms hanging limply by his side.

Angela almost squealed with delight. It had only taken them how long?

"Well, I'm incredibly sorry for interrupting," a sly smile played across her face as she winked suggestively at Booth, "I'll leave you to it."

As she clicked the door shut behind her, Booth and Brennan were left listening to the syncopated beat of her heels, and the smooth laughter that escaped her throat.

Booth glanced down at Brennan cautiously; still unsure of what just took place. His eyes met own, before she suddenly spluttered into hysterics, causing his own laughter to follow. After a few moments, the laughter ceased, and Brennan began to think about how the situation unravelled, one particular detail coming to mind.

"Booth! The key!" she cried, suddenly remembering their main dilemma.

His eyes darkened slightly as he stepped towards her, leaning down as he did so.

"Well, we don't need them _just_ yet," he replied, his voice husky in her ear as he climbed up onto the bed.

**A/N: Well, I hope it wasn't too bad, but review and let me know ******


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